by Karen Ranney
“I don’t recall that you asked me,” she said, her gaze not leaving his face.
“You’re right. I didn’t.” Nor did he feel like asking her now, but it was a good point she made. “Will you come home with me? I want to make sure that you’re safe, that no one will treat you badly.”
She blinked at him again and this time he realized it was because she was trying not to cry. What had he done?
“Please, Mercy.”
“I really shouldn’t, Lennox.”
“If your reputation is in tatters, as you say, what would it matter at this point? Connor can take you to Inverness tomorrow if you’re set on leaving.” He wanted to recall those words the moment he said them.
She shook her head. “My father’s on his way to Scotland. That’s why I haven’t left.”
That was information Irene hadn’t provided.
“Then you can stay at the castle until he arrives. You’ll be safer there. I’ll send word to Douglas that you’re going to be my guest and why. If it makes you feel better, I’ll ask Irene to stay as well. Between her and Ruthie, you’ll have enough chaperones.”
“Are chaperones entirely necessary at this point?”
He sent her a quick glance. “Yes.”
He’d wanted to kill Gregory when he’d seen the man strike her. Now he wanted to hold her close, keep her with him, and do whatever it took to ensure her happiness.
The fact that he felt that way was more frightening than launching himself off Ben Uaine. He pushed back that thought and concentrated on the problem at hand.
“I can’t run away the moment my life becomes difficult.”
He nodded. “I understand, but I’m not letting you go back there now, Mercy. If you want, we’ll fight about it, but I won’t have you mistreated. At Duddingston, at least I’ll know you’re safe.”
When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Please, Mercy.”
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but all she did was nod.
He took her hand back as they descended the glen toward the castle.
“What are you going to do about your airship?”
He glanced back to where he had left it on the road. “Connor will bring it along, at least down to the bridge. We put a tow rope on the nose and pull it like a wagon. Once on the bridge, however, it takes two of us to lift it around to the back of the castle.”
“Should you even be doing that?”
He smiled at her. “You needn’t worry about me, Mercy. I’m a Scot.”
“Stubborn, opinionated, and fond of whiskey. Is that it?”
“You’ve been listening to the English,” he said. “We’re also ferocious, loyal, and magnificent lovers.”
He watched in wonder as her cheeks grew pink.
“There’s something we have to get out of the way, before I take another step,” she said, stopping and pulling her hand free. “Before I ever came to the castle that night I’d already told Gregory that I had no intention of marrying him. I told him in New York. He simply refused to listen. So whatever happened between us had nothing to do with him. The idea that I would pay you to take my virginity was stupid, Lennox. Simply stupid. And I forgot about the silly valise. I carried that thing all the way from New York. It never left my side. But that morning, with you? The very last thing on my mind was the valise.”
He would have spoken, but she held up her hand.
“You’re the one who said that you can’t wrap everything up in a nice little bundle and put a bow on it. That’s exactly what you did by thinking I left the valise there deliberately. That was stupid, Lennox.”
“Here I was forgetting you were part Scot,” he said. “You’ve got a bit of an opinion on you, too. Stupid? I wouldn’t say it was stupid, Mercy.”
“I don’t know what you’d call it. I didn’t pay you to take my virginity.”
“I let my anger get away from me. I was feeling a bit used, what with your slipping away without a word.”
“Why would I want to make things worse than they were, Lennox? I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. It would have been too hard.”
He hadn’t considered that. “Will you forgive me?”
She already had or she wouldn’t have come looking for him, but he wanted to hear the words anyway.
“Yes.”
He looked down at her and the world seemed to drop away. Nothing or no one mattered in that moment but Mercy. He hoped her father took another month or so to arrive in Scotland.
Together they entered the castle and headed for the kitchen.
Irene sat at the table drinking tea. At the sight of them, she stood and came to stand in front of Mercy.
“What happened to you, lass?”
“Gregory,” Lennox said, the man’s name sounding like an oath. “She’s not going back, Irene. They don’t give a tinker’s damn about her there and that Hamilton ass made a punching bag out of her. If that offends you, either you or Connor, then I’m thinking that Duddingston isn’t the place for you.”
“Are you daft?” Irene said. “It’s the smartest thing either of you has done since you met.”
With that, she went to get Lennox’s medical bag herself, plunking it down on the table and looking at him expectantly. He’d evidently been given his orders, so he led Mercy to a chair, exchanging a smile with her as Irene bustled around the kitchen.
“It seems that every time I come to Duddingston it’s to be treated.”
“Not every time. You stitched me up, remember?”
“Are you certain your arm is healed?”
He nodded. “I’ve removed the stitches myself.”
She didn’t look convinced.
Bringing Mercy to Duddingston wasn’t the best situation, but it was better than allowing Gregory within striking distance. At least this way he could be assured of her safety. Nor was he altogether certain that her family wouldn’t try to marry her off to the idiot, just to prove a point.
There were bound to be ramifications, not to mention gossip, but at the moment Lennox was surprised to find himself oddly content. If not strangely—and disturbingly—happy.
Chapter Forty-Four
“What is that?” Mercy asked, wide-eyed.
He looked to where she was pointing. “A fox, I think.”
“You think?”
“It could be a squirrel.”
“It was no squirrel,” she said. “And it was bigger than a fox. It could have been a bear.”
“We don’t have bears in Scotland,” he said, grinning at her.
“Really?”
“Really. We don’t even have many wolves nowadays.”
“Wolves?” Her hand went to her throat.
He went to stand in front of her, trying to hide his smile and failing.
“I’ll protect you,” he said. “Even if we do encounter a wolf.”
She put both her hands on his chest. He really should step back. At the very least he should ask her not to touch him. This past week he’d done everything in his power to treat Mercy like she was a guest. A stranger come to stay at the castle for a time and nothing more.
He hadn’t gotten close to her. He hadn’t remained alone with her despite the fact that they’d often found themselves deserted by Connor and Irene. He’d claimed the press of work, or needing to get back to his drawings, or some excuse to escape the temptation of her.
Today, however, he’d thought to take advantage of the beautiful weather and walk the other side of Loch Arn. All the wooded property was Caitheart land and he was thinking of taking an offer to cull some of the timber. It would provide him some much-needed cash. First, though, he wanted to pace off exactly how much land he’d agreed to strip.
He’d invited Mercy to accompany him, never realizing that even in the midst of a forest she would prove to be alluring.
Everything amazed her, from the height of the pines, to the shadowed stillness among the trees, to the animals scurrying away. More than once she’d asked a question
that proved she’d never explored a forest.
“These aren’t like the woods at home,” she said. “This is almost a wild place.”
Wild enough, since there was no village nearby or any other type of settlement.
He showed her where he and Robert had each carved their initials in adjoining trees. Robert’s initials were much higher than his because his brother had been older—and taller—at the time.
Mercy didn’t seem to care that her skirt occasionally dragged on the forest floor, picking up pinecones and feathery leaves. She’d brush them off from time to time but never fuss. Nor did she seem to mind that a bit of fluff that looked suspiciously like something from a squirrel’s tail floated down from the upper branches.
“Stay there,” he said, reaching out to pluck it from her hair.
“What is it?”
“A present from a tree,” he said, holding it out for her inspection.
Her smile was a gift, one that warmed him.
For a moment they didn’t speak. Her smile faded and his did as well. Tenderness washed over him, a feeling he’d rarely experienced. He wanted her, but he also wanted to protect her. Not only from woodland creatures, but from all the things that might harm her or hurt her. Or from the people who might wound her.
He wanted to create a home for her at Duddingston. He wanted to share this day and all his days with her, talk with her about things that mattered to him, and laugh with her. His life had been empty and he wanted it filled with Mercy.
All these thoughts cascaded through his mind as they looked at each other.
Her hands were warm, capable of burning through the linen shirt he wore.
He should have stepped back, away. He should have cautioned her with a look. Or told her that he was too susceptible to her touch. For the past week he’d kept his desire reined in, but now it was slipping free of its tether.
A foray through the woods had seemed an innocent occupation. More fool he.
She leaned toward him. He stayed where he was, waiting for his honor to reassert itself.
“Lennox,” she said, his name a benediction on her lips.
He really shouldn’t be around her as much as he was. He always wanted to touch her. To put his hand on her waist or cup her shoulder, lean close to smell the scent she wore, warmed by her skin.
A kiss would make everything worse.
Yet he was only human. His honor faded beneath his greater need. Slowly, he bent down, giving her the opportunity to move away and his better nature time to reassert itself.
His lips met hers. Pleasure lanced through him. His arms went around her, pulling her closer until their bodies were touching. He could feel her breasts despite the layers of clothing between them. His memory furnished the shape and feel of them cupped in his palms.
Her sigh was an aphrodisiac, a sound he’d forever remember.
His hands moved to her waist, then stole around to her back.
A bird flying close penetrated the fog of desire that surrounded him. He pulled back, ending the kiss but not the embrace. He didn’t want to let Mercy go.
“Forgive me,” he said a moment later, reluctantly dropping his hands. This was practice for a moment that was inexorably coming. One day, soon, her father would send word from Macrory House and he’d have no choice but to deliver her there, a last ride in his carriage, a short journey that would feel only seconds long.
There was nothing he could do to delay that moment. It was, like death, inevitable and on the horizon.
Mercy looked up at him, her hands still on his chest.
“Why haven’t you come to my room?”
He gave a little laugh. “I’ve been trying to be honorable. You’re a guest at Duddingston.”
She nodded and only then did she move away.
“You’ve been very generous, Lennox. Thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been very proper.” She smiled, and the expression looked more rueful than amused. “To my chagrin,” she added, “we’ve always had a chaperone.”
She walked a few feet away, then turned back to him. “These are my last days of freedom, Lennox.”
He wasn’t going to respond to that comment.
Instead, he forced a smile to his face, a more difficult task than it should have been. “I’ve been thinking of naming my airship Dragon in honor of you.”
“Good. You’ll have something to remind you of me.”
As if he’d ever be able to forget her.
“Where to now?” she asked.
What would she say if he answered her honestly? To his bed. To Duddingston, to shock the entire world with their sin. To perdition, if necessary.
Instead, all he said was, “Just a little farther. Then we’ll start back.”
“I’m due to learn how to make scones,” she said.
“Irene has agreed to teach you?”
She nodded. “I am, according to Irene, woefully ignorant in the kitchen.”
“Do you really want to learn how to make scones, or is she browbeating you into doing it?”
She laughed. “No browbeating. I asked her to teach me.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I love scones. I’m not entirely helpless, you know. I can tie my own shoes and do my own hair.” She looked up at the canopy of branches above them. “Very well, maybe I can’t do it as well as Ruthie, but it’s a credible effort. And I have some talents. I can play the piano, for example, and sing. Dogs and cats don’t howl when I do.”
He reached over and hugged her, delighted with this side of her.
“Then I look forward to sampling some of your scones.”
“You may not get any unless you kiss the cook.”
She grabbed his shirt, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. “There. I may ask for more of those.”
He sincerely hoped she didn’t. He was having a hard enough time keeping his hands to himself as it was.
His honor was intact—again—and he was determined that this errand would be performed without any more lapses in judgment.
Chapter Forty-Five
Every morning when Mercy woke in the room she’d been given, the same one that held so many memories, all she felt was happiness because she knew she was going to see Lennox as soon as she dressed and went downstairs.
She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course. She didn’t want to seem needy or grasping. The worst thing in the world would be to admit loving a man who didn’t have the same feelings for you.
Kindness wasn’t love. Neither was protectiveness. Both qualities were natural to Lennox. He was a gentleman, unlike Gregory.
She hadn’t agreed to come to the castle because she wanted to be agreeable. Or even because she thought Gregory would hurt her. He was the type of person who did things in secret, making her wonder if he was guilty of any of the reported atrocities in the war. At Macrory House she would have been surrounded by other people, making it difficult, if not impossible, for Gregory to see her alone. She’d accompanied Lennox to Duddingston for an entirely selfish reason. Her father was coming and when he arrived she would have no choice but to return to New York with him. Until then, she would take each day with Lennox like the gift it was.
In the future she would probably look back on these days with a sense of wonder. She would forever remember Lennox and their night together. Or when she’d helped him in the courtyard. Or when they sat together, dripping, in front of the fire. Or when she’d stitched his arm. But there would be other moments as well, like now as they walked hand in hand toward the chapel. So many treasured memories all pressed into a short amount of time.
When had her fascination with Lennox turned into something more? Maybe what she felt for him had always been there like a rosebud ready to burst into flower.
What a pity that he hadn’t agreed to marry her. He might have considered it a marriage of convenience although it would have been so much more for her.
Society had arranged marriages all the time. Everyone knew that the parents of bo
th parties had recognized the fiscal advantages of the merger and had communicated their wishes to their children.
Her parents had essentially done the same thing with Gregory. From the first they’d made no secret of their approval of the match.
She was absolutely certain that they wouldn’t feel the same about Lennox. He didn’t lust after her father’s money or success like Gregory. Lennox wanted things out of life that couldn’t be purchased. Influence didn’t mean anything to him. What Lennox desired was to challenge himself, discover, invent, and create something tangible from a thought.
He couldn’t be bought.
Such a man truly didn’t care that she was an heiress. No, if she were to tempt Lennox into marriage, it would have to be because he wanted to spend his life with her. Her, not her fortune. Her, and not any coercion she could bring to bear because of her family name.
Lennox led her behind the castle, following a well-worn path around the curtain wall.
For the first time she saw the stable, empty but for the two Clydesdales. If Lennox would agree to marry her she could fill the empty stalls with horses.
“Is that the chapel?” she asked, pointing to a structure set apart from Duddingston and slightly higher. Built of the same weathered brick as the castle, it looked somehow older.
“It is,” he said.
They headed up the gravel walkway leading to oak-banded double doors. He opened one and stepped aside so that she could precede him.
The first thing she noticed was the sunlight streaming in through the ruined roof.
“Oh, what a shame,” she said, looking around her at the water damage from the recent storm.
“I’ve moved the really important, historical pieces into the castle,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do about the stained glass or the altar itself.”
The altar was a massive piece of carved wood that must have been completed inside the chapel. Otherwise she didn’t see how it could have been moved into the building. It had been covered with a tarp that Lennox removed now, revealing the artistry of the woodwork. She had never seen anything so beautiful and when she said as much to Lennox, he nodded.